Drunk Love and Cool Vengeance
by Author37
Summary: After a night on the town, Tadashi and Abigail find themselves in a scene of utter terror.


Abigail burst out of the side door of the bar, short bursts of loud laughter escaping her lips. "Wow! Now that's my idea of fun." She giggled as Tadashi followed her out, panting, giving out his own breathless laugh.

"Of course it is. Its why you're part of Hiro's team and I'm not," he spoke in a slurred voice, jumbling his words together. He stumbled towards her, eyes glazed over in his daze. Abigail walked over to him and wrapped her arms around his neck, kissing his lips. He responded in kind, holding her close to him at her waist.

It felt to Abigail like she spent and eternity in his embrace, and there was nothing more that she wanted at that moment than to prolong that eternity, but at last, they broke their kiss. Tadashi pressed his forehead against her own. "I love you," he said, the one clear sentence he had spoken for a while.

She whispered back, barely discernable to his ears, "I love you too." She nudged her head to the side. "Come on, let's catch a cab." She began pulling him down towards the streets, out of the alley, and towards civilization, when a figure wearing a tan overcoat blocked their path, the darkness of the alley obscuring his features.

Abigail felt Tadashi push past her and stand in front of her, his arms stretched out protectively. "What d'you want?" he muttered, looking at the strange figure warily. His rumpled jacket offered little protection to the cold, his body shivering with it. Only it wasn't cold. In the seven years Abigail had known Tadashi, including the two they had lived together, she had never seen him so much as twitch from the cold. It was something she'd seen only twice in her time with him. The abject fear of losing her. He wasn't shivering, but shaking. And this man seemed to know it.

Hair flying in the wind, the silhouette of the figure moved, reaching into his pocket and pulling something out in a smooth, quick, practiced maneuver. The man let out a friendly, light baritone chuckle as he raised his arm towards them, and Abigail recognized the same of a gun pointed at them. There was a flash, a loud bang, and the sound of Tadashi screaming in pain before stepping back, stumbling back into a dumpster pushed into the side of the building next to the bar. It was too much for her. Abigail screamed bloody murder, rushing forward to Tadashi, who sat there, moaning in pain, clutching his stomach as blood seeped out between his fingers. Tears flew from her eyes as she shook her head. "No, no no no no no!" She screamed as she buried her head into his chest. She heard his last breath leave his chest, felt his lungs deflate, and his body went still, relaxing under death's embrace.

She didn't notice the light grow darker, or the sound of his footsteps on the ground, nor did she realize that the man had closed the gap between them. And she didn't expect to feel a pointed tip of a dark brown leather boot to connect with her lower left jaw, shattering it as she flew backwards into the asphalt, scraping her elbows as they hit. When she tried to get up, the figure pointed his gun at her, firing four times in rapid succession. She felt each one hit her body, first in her right shoulder, then in her chest and stomach. He stood over her broken, bleeding body, and fired a final shot in her throat. There was nothing she could do as she watched him bring up a match and light it at his waist before bringing it up to his face, revealing a handsome, if somewhat fragile face, a face she had seen before at her dad's business parties. A man who she once had been interested in and had dated for a couple of weeks before he flew back to New York. His hair was slicked back, as always, revealed by the light of the match as he lit his cigarette. Of all the things about this situation, that's what bothered her muddled mind most. He had an unlit cigarette in his mouth the whole time.

"Don't worry. You'll be together," says Harry Trevor as he turns back towards the street, a smile crossing his lips. Its the last thing Abigail heard other than the scrape of his fine leather shoes as the killer walks out of the alley, waving down his getaway vehicle.


End file.
